94 Days of Drarry
by Aquien
Summary: A collection of one shots, drabbles etc. All Drarry. Ratings will be of all kinds, tags will be added as chapters are added. Look at the notes in the beginning of each chapter for specifics.
1. The Masquerade Ball

A/N: 94 Days of Drarry - a collection of short stories, drabbles etc, all featuring Drarry. These stories are written using the writing prompts here: /2ar7iKU (there are 100, but six of them are "roll again". I'm not using a dice, I'm going through them all.

The idea is that on days that I am too tired or too busy to work on my actual writing, I should at least write a short Drarry-drabble using one of the prompts (not necessary in the order they are on the list, I'll give myself the freedom to chose in any order I like). The reason I'm doing this is because I need to work on my writing every day. As some days I just can't write on my actual stories, I need something easier to keep me going, to get me to write at all.

There will be no specific genre - there will be everything from fluff to angst to humor, established and not yet established relationship. There will be some that are only scenes, some that are short stories. Some that are just drabbles, some that are longer. There will be some that are bad and those that are even worse but maybe even a couple that are good. You get the picture, I'm sure.

Ratings will be of all kinds, they will be stated (together with specific warnings etc) in the note in the beginning of each chapter.

I also write these as an exercise, to work on my writing in general. As I write, these stories are not part of anything bigger, but who knows - maybe one of them will later inspire me to write it to a real story.

Feel free to comment; all comments are welcome. Positive, negative, neutral. Regarding the story ideas themselves, regarding the language I use. If you think I should write one later to a proper story, or bury that idea as deep as I can. All comments are 3 3 3

* * *

Chapter One is suitable for General Audiences, Pre-slash. I'm really tired as I wrote this, but at least I wrote something today, it has been several days since last time.

* * *

Harry could not decide whether he thought McGonagall were a genius or seriously deluded. Sure, he is all for promoting interhouse-unity, but to organize a masquerade Ball for all the upper classes? The sixth, seventh and eight years were all required to attend. The idea, as the Head Mistress had explained it, was that each and everyone would chose a secret glamour that they would then cast on themselves. They had even been thought how to change their voices. They were not allowed to tell anyone their identities or which of the Houses they belonged to and were now all gathered in the Great Hall that had been decorated for the Ball. At the stroke of midnight all were to remove their disguise and reveal who they were. This, McGonagall had explained, would give them all an opportunity to socialize with each other without prejudice.

Harry was not that sure. The ball had been going on for almost an hour by now, and sure, some where talking happily, but then their were others - like Harry himself - that just hang around, desperately trying to think of something - anything - to say to some unlucky soul that happened to pass by. This far, Quidditch had been the only idea Harry had come up with. He just could not say if it was a good opening line. As he had no clue who he would talk to, he would not be able to tell if they might be interested or not. He sighed to himself, and made a mental note to not over-think this. Quidditch would at least be a neutral topic, and almost everyone had at least some opinion on the matter. If they thought it to be boring, well, then they could just come up with something better to discuss then!

Harry drew a deep breath, steeling himself and urging himself to just dive in to the crowd. The first one not already talking to someone would be his target. He would ask them their favorite team. He would do it. If only his legs would co-operate. He tried not to think about how much he hated small talk and social gatherings. The more he tried not to, the more he did though, and he could just feel himself loosing his nerve.

"Are you okay?" Harry turned to look at the guy who had just spoken. He seemed to be of Asian descent, with straight black hair and almost shimmering, golden skin. His dark eyes were slightly worried as he regarded Harry, who had chosen the model his glamour after a picture of a blond Viking he had found in a book he had happened by. He had hoped looking like a Viking would give him courage, but apparently it had not worked. Sure, he was as ready to charge in head first if there were a fight, but this? This, he figured, was much more scary. He looked at the asker, who in his current disguise was much shorter than Harry.

"What's your favorite team?" he suddenly blurted out, just going with his original thought. "Quidditch, I mean," he clarified, at the same time as he realized he had not answered the guy's question. "And I'm fine," he hurried to add, cursing himself quietly. It was the first time he had opened his mouth to speak this evening, and already he was making a complete fool of himself.

The stranger looked baffled for a moment, but then he caught himself and smiled at Harry. "The Caerphilly Catapults of course, what's yours?" he answered.

"The Cannons," Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders, readying himself to defend his answer.

"The Cannons, eh? Cheering for the underdog then?" he was laughing quietly, but Harry did not mind as it was a nice laugh.

* * *

Three hours later, they were still talking. After Quidditch they had moved on to other topics and had by now covered Wizarding bands, their favorite subjects at Hogwarts - the stranger's had been Potions, to Harry's big disappointment. Who liked Potions? He had been able to argue for it though, claiming to like the attention to detail and the thrill it apparently gave him when he managed to finish an especially complicated potion correctly. Well, Harry figured it was a good thing someone liked Potions. His answer - Defense against the Dark Arts - had triggered a more serious discussion, concerning the use of the Dark Arts in general, and whether they all were really Dark as in Evil, or just misunderstood. Harry had thought the first to be correct, but after arguing back and forth for the latest 75 minutes, he was starting to at least see the other guy's point of view.

Harry was feeling torn right now though. He was - due to the opinions the other guy presented - starting to suspect that he was indeed a Slytherin. This should have made Harry suspicious and he was telling himself he really should find a reason to leave, but almost against his will he was starting to like the guy. He obviously had an agile mind, he was quick to smile in an absolutely adorable way, and talking with him had made Harry feel like he was getting the opportunity to see things from a new perspective. He might be thinking he should walk away, but he just did not want to. The spirited conversation had made him feel more alive than he had felt in ages.

"Time's almost up," his conversation partner suddenly said. For a moment, Harry did not understand what he meant, but as the sound of a gong sounded through the hall, he realized that Midnight was almost here.

"Ladies, Gentlemen and Others," McGonagall's voice was magically enhanced so that everyone could here it clearly. "The gong has sounded once, and will soon sound a second time, at the exact stroke of midnight. I hope you have all made some new friends today, and that you will keep on to those friendships, no matter what House your new friends are from. Remember the person, do not just look at their House." McGonagall gave them all one of her rare smiles, and then the gong sounded again.

Harry gulped nervously, but this was the sort of bravery he did possess. Turning toward his companion, they looked each other in the eye. He noticed that for the first time this evening, the guy next to him seemed nervous and reluctant. He clearly did not want to reveal himself to Harry. Harry smiled at him in what he hoped was a encouraging way and nodded as to give a signal so that they would remove their glamours at the same time. The guy closed his eyes for a moment, before meeting Harry's gaze again. He nodded in reply and then they cast.

Harry had expected a Slytherin. He had not expected him to be an Eight year though; not someone he knew. He had not expected his fascinating and charming conversation partner to be Draco Malfoy.

It was though, and as Malfoy lay his eyes on Harry, he clearly had not guessed Harry's identity correctly either. The already pale boy paled even further. He mumbled something, for the first time this evening not speaking clearly and with confidence, and turned as if to run away. Without thinking, Harry reached out and took a hold of his arm.

"Uhm," he had reacted before thinking about what to say again. He had just known he did not want Malfoy to leave like this. "I'd like to know more. About how Dark Magic are not Evil. You know, I'm still not sure I believe you. But I'd like to talk more. I'd like to know your side of the story. If it's okay. If you want to. I mean…" he blushed, as he find himself rambling almost incoherently. Malfoy looked at him with eyes that did not betray anything what he might be thinking. He had stayed though. After a moment of silence, he smirked, but it wasn't as haughtily as Harry was used to. Instead, it was almost a smile.

"Whatever, Potter," he said, and now Harry could hear that there was no true malice in his words. "Meet me at the lake tomorrow after class? It should be quiet enough there."

"Sure Malfoy, meet you there," Harry grinned. Maybe this whole thing had been a good idea after all. Maybe this was a chance for new beginnings.

As Malfoy turned and walked away, Harry looked after him. Yes, he would definitely do his best to get to know this new side of Draco Malfoy.


	2. Stuck in an Elevator

_A/N: Rating: M. PWP, smut, M/M. You have been warned._

* * *

Harry was at the Ministry, waiting for the elevator to arrive. He had an appointment with Kinsley, the Minister of Magic himself. He was hoping this had something to do with his request for founding to renovate the Auror's training grounds that were beyond bad in shape. He was silently reciting all his arguments for the case, when he sensed someone coming up to stand beside him.

"Potter," Draco Malfoy nodded curtly to Harry, who responded in the same manner. Since the war ended almost ten years ago, he and Malfoy had not had much to do with each other. Harry knew Malfoy had his own successful business as a Potions Master, and every now and then they would run into each other, as Malfoy regularly was contracted to help out the Aurors when it came to crimes involving potions in some way. As long as they spoke as little as possible to each other, they usually managed to behave. In cases where they had to actually interact though, they tended to both regress to the behavior that had characterized their relationship in their younger days. Harry could not say why, there was just something about Malfoy that got under his skin in the worst possible way.

Two others were already in the elevator when it arrived. Harry and Malfoy entered, stating their destinations. Apparently Malfoy was visiting the Ministry for Sports and Entertainment, for whatever reason that might be. At the next stop the two other passengers got of, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy. He studiously ignored the blond, faking an immense interest in the closed doors. Suddenly, the whole elevator rocked violently, before coming to a stop.

After a moment of silence, a voice came through the speaker. "This is the Ministry's Department of Magical Repairs. The elevator you are in is experiencing minor difficulties. Please stand by, it will soon be fixed and continue to your stated destinations." The impersonal voice stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving Harry and Malfoy with no other options than to wait.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry was about to explode. He had hoped to spend the time waiting in uncomfortable, awkward silence, but no such luck. Malfoy had by now gone through all the persons he would contact and file a complaint to, and was now apparently moving on to informing Harry how this was "unacceptable" and that he, in contrast to others (clearly referring to Harry) actually had important places to be, meetings to get to et cetera.

"Malfoy," Harry finally interrupted with enough irritation in his voice to actually shut up the git for a moment. "I can't stress how much I'm NOT interested. Please shut up, for Merlin's sake!"

"And what then do you expect me to do?" the blond asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically at Harry. "I need to use this time productively."

"Exactly how is this ranting supposed to be productive?" Harry asked with astonishment clear in his voice.

"It's called planning. Someone has to pay."

"These things happen. Get over it. We'll soon be on our way. Just shut up."

"And just stand here, uselessly?"

"You're always useless, Malfoy!" Harry was getting angry at the git, as he usually did when they were forced to talk to each other. "I don't care what you do, as long as you're quiet," he almost spat out, hoping to Merlin that Malfoy would just shut up.

For a moment, it seemed like it had worked, as Malfoy just stood there. Then he cocked his head to the side and smirked at Harry. "So, you're saying that as long as I don't speak, I can do anything?"

"Yes. Just shut it," Harry frowned and glared at the blond. Before he could do anything else though, he suddenly found himself pinned to the wall by Malfoy, who apparently was surprisingly strong. Harry did not even have the time to think about how to react, as the git sunk down on his knees in front of Harry, opening the zipper in his pants at the same time. Next thing he knew, Malfoy was taking the whole of Harry's soft cock into his mouth, sucking at it lightly.

"This okay then?" he asked around it, eyes twinkling deviously. Harry found himself nodding in reply, too astonished to think and too caught up in the feeling as Malfoy sucked and let his tongue playing all over his cock that was now rapidly hardening.

Harry looked down at Malfoy's blond head, not really believing this was actually happening. He thought he ought to stop Malfoy, but just could not. Soon he was fully hard and all thoughts of demanding Malfoy to stop left his head.

Malfoy's was now sucking lightly on the soft skin on the head of Harry's cock, while his left hand was moving rhythmically, stroking the shaft. Harry groaned in pleasure, it had been way too long since the last time. When Malfoy moved his left hand to softly massage his bollocks, while taking in almost all of Harry's cock into his mouth, the sounds that Harry let escape him would have made him feel embarrassed if he had stopped to think about it. He did not.

Then suddenly the mouth was gone and Harry gasped from the loss. He tried to voice a protest, but the hand fondling his bollocks still continued and then he heard a spell being said. The Auror in him dimly registered that Malfoy must have cast it wandlessly, but the significance of that was nothing he was currently able to think about. Then the mouth was back.

Malfoy sure had a talented mouth was all Harry had the time to think about before a whole new sensation came over him as the spell Malfoy had cast suddenly became clear. A lube-slick finger deftly found its way to to the crack of Harry's arse and the hole hidden there.

As Malfoy softly, but firmly circled his hole, slowly relaxing the muscle there, Harry's groans got louder and he could not help himself - without thinking he parted his legs further, giving Malfoy better access. He could hear Malfoy chuckle lightly, but he did not care. All he cared about right now was the sensation as the blond's slick finger softly pushed against his hole, and then finally getting it inside him. The whole world seemed to spin from the newness of the feeling - no one else had ever entered Harry in this way. No one else had touched the inside of his arse hole. He had tried it himself and liked it, but been too nervous about the whole "maybe I'm gay"-issue to actually take it any further with someone else.

Malfoy's finger continued to stroke and softly massage his hole, occasionally pushing a little further in, but giving Harry the time to adjust. Harry was not as patient though. "Please," he found himself pleading. "I need… Please, just…" he did not actually know what he needed, just that he needed something. Something more. A muffled chuckle escaped Malfoy again, who was still having his mouth full with Harry's now aching cock. In reply to Harry's pleading, he let a second finger join the first.

As the two fingers both pushed inside Harry, he felt as if he just could not open himself up widely enough for Malfoy. He groaned in frustration and want, taking support against the wall with his hands and arms to steady himself so that he could then lift up his left leg against the wall next to him. Clearly pleased by Harry's show of need, Malfoy sucked his cock in hard at the same time as his fingers pushed further into Harry than they had before.

Suddenly a flare of what felt like white lightning of pleasure went through Harry. He knew of his prostrate of course, he had experienced with himself, but for someone else to find it and massage it in this way - he had never guessed it could feel like this! A guttural scream escaped him. Malfoy continued, his mouth sucking fervently on Harry's cock, left hand now helping Harry keep his balance by pinning him against the wall, the right hand tending to his hole. Two fingers going in and out and with each in striking just the right spot. Just when Harry thought this could not get any better, Malfoy drew out his fingers all the way, just to let a third join them on the way in. Going more slowly now, to let Harry adjust, but Harry would have none of it. Desperate and needing he pushed down on them, wanting to feel as much of them inside him as possible. Wanting to feel as much of Malfoy inside him as he could.

"Malfoy," he managed to choke out. "I'm going to… I'm…" he tried to warn the blond, who responded with sucking in Harry's cock even deeper than before. With a cry he emptied himself in Malfoy's mouth. He could not remember coming this hard ever before, it felt like he just came and came all over again. Malfoy continued to suck his cock and push his fingers into him until Harry had spent all of himself. When he finally was empty, his left leg slide down the wall and now more than ever he needed Malfoy's support to keep him upright.

Malfoy didn't let him go right away. Instead he softly licked Harry's softening cock clean, while keeping his fingers deep inside his arse. When he finally let go of Harry's cock, with a last kiss on the now hidden head, at the same time gently slipping his fingers out of Harry's arse, Harry felt almost like crying from the loss. A jerk as the elevator suddenly continued its journey abruptly brought him back to reality though.

With wide eyes he watched Malfoy calmly get up from his kneeling position, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief he pulled from a hidden pocket in his robes, still not saying anything. Harry felt like he should speak, but could not think of what. "What..? Why..? What was..? Just…" he stammered, not able to form his thoughts into clear questions. Malfoy did not seem to pay him and attention, busily straightening out his clothes instead.

When the elevator stopped at Malfoy's level, the blond turned to him and pointedly looked at Harry's crotch. "You should tuck yourself in. I don't like others looking at that what is mine," the git smirked before turning to walk away, leaving Harry alone in the elevator, grateful that there had been no one waiting to get on it at Malfoy's stop.


	3. Stolen Diary

Rating T (or maybe really, really slight M? I'm not good at rating). Sort of Fluff, I'd guess. Hogwarts Eight Year, HP:EWE.

* * *

It had seemed like such a great idea. Spectacular, even. Finally, he would get a chance to get the upper hand against the Golden Boy. When he had found out the Potter kept a diary, he had sworn to himself that he would lay his hands on it. He would read it and find out his secrets, he was sure there would be something in there that he could use to taunt Potter with. Something that he could blackmail him with, to get him to do his bidding.

He had been right. Sort of. There had been a secret in Potter's diary. Something that no one would ever had been able to guess. Something that now had Draco sitting on his bed, mouth agape from astonishment. He was staring blindly at the paragraph - he had read it maybe a dozen times by now and still just could not wrap his head around it.

The only surprise found in the first part of the diary was that the Golden Boy's life was pretty ordinary. It was filled with worries about his NEWTs, complains about his friends mixed with singing their praise. The only thing missing was any mention of Potter's love life. Not that Draco was interested. It was just that he had thought that Potter would have been pretty busy in that department, able to have his pick among all those fawning followers of his. If he did take the opportunity, there was no mention of it though. There was no mention of anyone holding the Golden Boy's interest in that way.

Then, that changed. At first there had been no name. Just a short mention, written almost like Potter was annoyed with himself for mentioning it - thinking it - at all. Apparently this someone, who had caught his eye, had been looking "especially graceful" on his broom that day. After this first mention, there had been a couple of entries with nothing, and then there had been one again, this time about the sun catching his hair. "Really, Potter?" Draco had thought. Such a cliche! Well, he always new Potter was an unrefined brute.

There had been only one day without a mention before Potter had written an entire paragraph about how this git "gestured dramatically" while talking to his friends, and apparently been entirely oblivious how "magnetic" and "full of life" he had been - something that Potter apparently had been astonished to witness, as this focus for his attention usual was "so in control, never relaxing". Really, what on earth did Potter see in this guy? A probably only half-decent flier with hair on his head who never showed any emotions? Whoever it was, Draco made a mental note to take them down a notch.

After that, there was at least one mention of the git in every entry. Sometimes just a short observation, sometimes Potter went on and on about him. Maybe he was under a love spell? Or a potion? Someone should make sure, so that the idiot did not make even a bigger fool of himself than he already was.

Then there came an entry, two weeks old now, that sounded awfully familiar, Draco just could not place it. Potter wrote about how he had bumped into the guy and the uptight git had almost had a fit. Then, later that day, he had taunted Potter in class, who had been close to loose his temper in reply. Another eight year-student then. Something about Potter's description just sounded like he had maybe been there? Maybe he had, he thought. They shared some classes, after all. That would mean that the student were either another Gryffindor, or a Slytherin. No matter how he tried though, he just could not think of any fight he had witnessed between the Golden Boy and someone else.

A couple of entries more, and then there it was. The next to last entry, from the day before yesterday. At first Potter only wrote about Granger harassing him about his studies (Draco actually thought the mudblood had a point, but that was nothing he would ever admit). Then, there came the one paragraph from which Draco just could not take his eyes.

 _"We had Care of Magical Creatures today. Hagrid was showing us these skrimoggs and He was making a fuss as always. I know Hagrid can be a little thoughtless and overly enthusiastic at times, but he means well. Why must He always be such a prat? He went on and on to his friends about how it was beneath him to do the sort of menial labor as feeding something he described as a slimy miniature pig. Why can't I just get over him? He is such a pain in the arse! Why can't I stop thinking about how I really, really would prefer him to be a whole different kind of pain in my arse? A pain that would not be as much a pain as… Argh, why can't I stop thinking about him? He's a prejudiced snob, he's an ex- Death Eater for Merlin's sake! If I hadn't had Pomfrey check me for all love potions and spells there are, I would think that was the reason, but apparently this is just my messed up mind. I'm so fucked. (Or actually, I'm not. That's the problem, really. Sigh.)"_

The mysterious guy had called those disgusting things slimy miniature pigs? He used to be a Death Eater? There was only on person Draco could think of, that fit that description. Who also took excellent care of his hair, making sure it always caught the light just right. Who was absolutely marvelous at flying.

Who, now that Draco thought about it, had been annoyed with Potter a couple of weeks ago, when they had run into each other and Potter had thus interrupted his thoughts of just what he might do with the Golden Boy when he got his hands on the prat's diary and found some juicy secret to blackmail him with. His thoughts had gone in a direction he was not going to confess to anyone - not even himself. And then they had been abrupted by running into the focus for said thoughts.

For a long time, Draco just sat there, unable to do anything, not even move forward in his thoughts. He seemed to be stuck in his own head. He just could not bring himself to even think about the identity of Potter's secret crush.

After a long while, Draco forced himself to turn the page to the last entry. He sat there, staring almost blindly at it for a while, before rising to his feet like he was in a haze. He threw the diary in his trunk and resealed it so that no one else would get to it. Then he run out of the dorms, suddenly in a hurry. His friends shouted something after him, but he did not stop to listen. He just run like he had never run before.

* * *

The last entry had been short. Staring at it, he had memorized it.

 _"Malfoy. I know you know about my journal. I know you are planning to steal it. I know what you will find out when you read it. I will leave the journal unattended and pretend not to notice you taking it. It's probably stupid, but I'm getting tired at constantly thinking about you, so I decided to risk it. It's the Gryffindor thing after all - "to take stupid risks" as you so eloquently put it on several occasions._

 _I'll be out by the lake the whole day. Be there before nightfall. Come and be the pain in my arse that I'm dreaming about."_


	4. Super Harry Bros

Rated T, mild. Crackfic, humor, crossover. Pre-slash.

* * *

"Potter, what's happening?" Malfoy sounded panicked. "Why is that giant turtle coming towards us so fast? And why are you dressed like an Italian plumber?"

"Wha-… I don't know. And you're the one dressed like a plumber!" Harry looked at the odd sight of Draco Malfoy, dressed in a green plumber's outfit, that looked vaguely familiar. Harry himself was dressed in a similar attire, but the colors were red and blue. He looked around, trying to figure out where they were. There was something familiar about this place, which was odd, since he had never been any place like this before. They were on a path, and ahead of them lay a landscape of strange-looking tubes and stoneblocks, flying in the air. A giant, mean-looking turtle was heading towards them, looking ready to kill. Suddenly it hit him. Everything within him screamed that it was impossible, but he didn't have the time to listen now. They had to run. "Run, Malfoy. Run!" he screamed at the blond git beside him, trying not to panic as he set off on a sprint.

"Run, what, where?" Malfoy stubbornly stayed where he was.

"Forward, do you see any other available direction, you blind git?" Harry halted, Malfoy might be a git, but they were stuck in this together, and Harry was reluctant to leave him behind.

"Who are you calling blind, you bespectacled prat?"

"Just move already Malfoy, the turtle is almost here. You have to jump over him, do NOT try to… NO, Malfoy you idiot!" The world around Harry went dizzy for a moment, when it cleared, they were both standing at the same spot where they had started out.

"What happened?"

"You died. You're lucky we got three lives each. You're down to two now then. Ready to run and avoid those turtles now?"

"My father is going to hear about this!"

"Good to know. Now run!"

"Why aren't there any brooms here? Why can't I run to the side? What's wrong with the world?"

"You're in it?"

"I'll have you know that I am the heir to a long line of the pure-bloodest, noblest wizard that ever…"

"Whatever. You're still stuck in a Muggle game. Now jump up and hit that flying block marked the questionmark."

"Hit it? With what? And why?"

"With your head."

"I think not!"

"Just do it! And make sure to catch whatever it is that pops out of it."

"You're not making any sense. And what did you mean stuck in a Muggle game?"

"I remember my cousin playing this when we were kids. It's called Mario, I think. We have to run and jump and avoid all creatures. Also, hitting those blocks give some sort of stuff that just might help us survive this."

"And what's the point of this, then?"

"If I remember correctly, we have to save the Princess."

"Why would I do that? I have no interest in saving anyone, least of all some princess."

"Because the game is designed that way."

"It's stupid."

"Nevertheless, somehow we're stuck here, and the only option I can see is trying to move forward. Maybe saving the princess gets us out of here. Now, can we finally start moving? And hit that block!"

"Why don't you hit it."

"Fine." Harry glared at Draco, before jumping up and hitting the stone block with his head. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. What looked like a white and red mushroom grew out of the block and started moving. Drawing his courage, Harry run up to it and caught it. The world blurred and suddenly Malfoy was only half Harry's size.

"Hey!" Miniature-Malfoy shouted, indignation clear on his face.

"Maybe next time you'll listen to me?"

"Fine." Stomping forward, Malfoy jumped up at the next block. A pling sounded. "Where's my mushroom?" he demanded.

"I guess not all give mushrooms. I think that pling meant you gathered some money. Hit it again, usually those blocks give of several golds."

"I don't want gold, I want out of this place!"

Harry sighed and tried to calm himself. "If we want out, we need to move forward, remember?" a thought came to him, and before he could help himself, he grinned and reached out, patting Miniature-Malfoy on the head in a parody of a soothing gesture. He promptly regretted it as Malfoy turned his head and bit Harry in the hand patting him. Malfoy's tiny tooths were sharp! He glared at the git, then turned around to continue, not caring anymore if Malfoy followed or not. The pitter patter of small feet behind him told Harry he did though.

After running, jumping and hitting blocks for a while, a thought came to Harry. "What did you mean?" he asked, before he could stop himself. Malfoy looked at him in irritation, just as he caught the mushroom he had finally managed to get from a block he had hit.

"What are you talking about, Potty?" he snarled.

"Why aren't you interested in saving the Princess. I mean, I know you're all about saving yourself, but you know, the Princess might be grateful…" at the last word, Malfoy made a face in disdain.

"Like that would make it any better!"

"Why not?"

"I'm gay, Potter."

"What?"

"G-A-Y. Look it up."

"I know what it means," Potter sputtered, feeling himself blushing. "I just didn't think you were, you know. Like that."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No! No. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I'm… I'm gay." Harry blushed at the confession, it wasn't like he was ashamed, it was just that he didn't usually talk about his private business with anyone. Least at all with an ex Death Eater. Malfoy regarded him with an unreadable expression for a moment. Then he smirked.

"Two gay, Italian plumbers in a Muggle game, out to save the Princess. If there's some All-mighty creator behind everything, they've really gone of the deep end now, eh?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. At the sound, Malfoy looked surprised, before his smirk softened somewhat, and then he nodded towards the path forward, indicating they should continue.

* * *

They were standing on a piece of tube before a long stretch of the path that seemed to be littered with turtles, before ending in what looked like a staircase made of small blocks. Behind it they saw a flag pole.

"Better get this over with. I go first, you follow in a moment, okay?" Harry suggested. Malfoy nodded grimly in reply.

Running and jumping as he never had before, Harry was about halfway when he landed on a turtle instead of behind it. It's head promptly withdrew into it's shell and then it started to go move like crazy between the tube and the staircase. The good thing was that it hit all the other turtles that promptly disappeared, but the bad thing was that the shell kept moving like a small missile back and forth, keeping Harry and Malfoy jumping like crazy to avoid getting hit. Just as he was almost at the staircase, Harry was hit. Everything blurred again, and then the world - along with Malfoy - seemed to have grown. Harry cursed. He was tiny again.

Malfoy grinned at him, as they now both stood there on the staircase, safe from the turtle-missile.

"You know, I kinda like you like this," the prat smirked at Harry. Harry glared and started to stomp up the stairs that Draco took in strides.

When they reached the top, there was a steep drop and then a flagpole.

"We need to jump," Harry stated his realization out loud as the memory hit him. "We've got to jump and try to land as high as possible at that flagpole."

"What? Why?" Malfoy looked almost scandalized at the suggestion.

"I don't know why. I just remember that that's what we've got to do." Harry snarled, his patience growing increasingly thin as his size had been reduced to pocket-sized. "You'll probably have it easier than me though," he grumbled in addition, glaring at Malfoy towering up over him. The giant git smirked as he realized the truth. Looking like it gave him courage, he jumped and to Harry's astonishment landed on the top of the flagpole. Sighing, Harry followed. He didn't reach the top of the pole, but he did reach it and apparently that was enough.

When they both had gotten the small flags, they realized there was something written on them. The words didn't seemed to make any sense though. Just as Harry was about tho throw his away in frustration, Malfoy snatched it from his hands. He then put them both on the ground, next to each other, and then suddenly the message was complete. Bending over the flags, they read the message.

 _Harry and Draco,_

 _We're all tired to death at the two of you constantly fighting. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife. Just get the foreplay over with and fuck already, for Merlin's sake!_

 _As we realize that just won't happen though, we all got together and decided you needed some time away, just the two of you. To work out your issues, as they say. Work together, save the Princess and then the spell will end and you'll be back in the real world. Hopefully you'll both learn something._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your friends_

 _PS. And please, please, do something about that tension between it. Just don't tell me (Ron) about it. I'm all okay with you being gay Harry, I just don't want to hear about you and that git… Just spare me the details, okay mate?_

 _PPS. Draco, we know it's Potter. We know he's a pretentious, arrogant Gryffindor. It's okay. We'll still love you. We'll make fun of you mercilessly, but in a loving, caring way. P &B._

 _PPS. Just do what makes you happy Harry. I love you. -H._

Harry's shocked eyes met Malfoy's.

"I'm going to kill them," the blond git made sense for once.

"I'll help," Harry replied without a second of hesitation.

"So, save the Princess, get out of here and then Kill our Friends. That's the plan?"

"That's the plan." Harry grinned at Malfoy, who met his eyes with determination.

"And after that we'll do something about that tension they mentioned," the git smirked, before turning around and running towards the tube that apparently led to the next level, leaving Harry standing behind him, blushing furiously. Then he grinned to himself and set of in a sprint after Draco.

They had a princess to save, friends to kill and tensions to… untense.


	5. You've got my Destiny

Suitable for all audiences. Just a shorty, a "what if"-story/idea. AU, Hogwart's First Year.

* * *

Almost the first story Harry hears, when he learns all about the Wizarding World, is the story about the Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. The story is told in awed and hushed voices. On the train to Hogwarts, he meets a boy, Ron Weasley, who is the first one to tell the Harry the whole story.

Ten years ago, there had been this Dark Wizard - Lord Voldemort - who had threatened to take over everything. He had killed without remorse anyone that came in his way. Anyone he felt was a threat or sometimes just because he could and wanted to. Ten years ago, he had for reasons unknown turned on his closest man, killing him and his wife. He had tried to kill their one year old son as well, but somehow had been unable to. Instead the boy had survived and the Dark Wizard himself had been conquered. Most believed him to be dead, others say he will be back. There are rumors of a prophecy saying that only the Boy Who Lived can kill him for good.

After his parents died, the Boy Who Lived has been raised by his aunt. Believed to be Lord Voldemort's most devoted follower, the rage over her taking care of the boy have been enormous. No one has been able to do anything about it though. She took the Boy Who Lived and closed off their home and with not enough proof to confirm her loyalties, attacking it could not be justified.

With an aunt rumored to be quite insane, and with only limited contact with the rest of the world, there is no way to know what kind of person the Boy Who Lived has grown up to be.

"Now the Boy Who Lived has turned eleven though, and it has been confirmed that he will be attending Hogwarts," Ron finishes his story. Harry stares at the red-haired boy, not really believing something like that could be possible. He had been told by Hagrid, the half-giant who came to give him his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, that his parents had as well been killed by this Dark Wizard, Lord Voldemort. To think, he had as well survived while his parents had not. He could almost have been called the Boy Who Lived as well - only he had been away with his Godfather when his parents were killed, and it had been the very next day that Voldemort had met his unknown fate instead.

Harry wondered what this boy would be like. The Boy Who Lived - Draco Malfoy.


	6. Nightmares

_I have absolutely no idea how to rate this one. T or higher, I'd say. WARNING for unhappy ending._

* * *

"Hey! Anyone there? Anyone?" my voice breaks on the last word and normally I'd be mortified if anyone had heard it. I don't care now though. I just want someone to answer me. It's so dark, everything is dark and damp and it smells funny. I wish I knew where I am. I wish I wasn't so alone.

It feels like I've been here for an eternity, even though it's probably not been even an hour yet. To think, that only an hour ago I was at the Manor, preparing to apparate out to meet up with Pansy for our scheduled luncheon. Instead of ending up at the apparation point in Diagon Alley, I ended up here though. Where ever "here" is.

I can't stop the sob that escapes me. It's humiliating, I pride myself in not having cried since that one time that I don't want to think about. When Potter of all people had walked in on me. Father always told me that crying is a sign of weakness. He told me that Malfoy's don't cry. Still, I can't help the tear that leaves my eye and slowly travels down my chin. What has happened? Where am I? Why can't I find anyone else? Why can't I hear anything other than myself breathing and moving around?

I stand up again, from the kneeling position on the ground that I slumped down in a while ago. The mud is slippery under my feet, and keeping upright is made even harder from the darkness. I reach out with my hands, trying to find something to steady myself against, or better even - something that will tell me where I am. There is nothing though. Only emptiness surrounds me.

I stumble forward a few steps, hands feeling around in the air but touching nothing. Slowly I walk forward - or at least I hope it's forward, I have no way to know for certain. I know that I am moving, but nothing changes around me to give me any indication whether or not I actually make it anywhere. The darkness is still complete and I can detect no change in the muddy ground under my feet. The smell seems to be slowly dissipating though, but that's probably just me getting used to it.

I wish I had my wand. I had it when I apparated, but when I landed here in the darkness, it was gone. I've been practicing casting wandless spells, but with limitless success. Now as I walk in the darkness I concentrate on that one spell that used to seem to insignificant to me, and now is the only one I want to cast. "Lumos," I chant over and over again, trying to channel my magic to cast it without my wand. There's not even a spark.

* * *

My legs are beyond tired, but I keep pushing forward. The ground is still muddy and the darkness seems to be without an end. With arms stretched out I have not yet touched anything. Not a tree, not a wall, nothing. Nor have I stumbled on any stones, bushes or sidewalks. I haven't felt like I've been walking uphill nor downhill. I've reached down to touch the ground a couple of times. The only thing I feel is slippery, wet mud. That seems to be the only thing there is.

I think it's been hours since I last shouted out for someone to hear me. I stopped as each time the disappointment at not getting an answer got harder to bear. There is no echo, my voice just goes out there in the quiet darkness. I imagine it traveling the grounds, the only sound this place have ever heard. I imagine it getting thinner and thinner as this world starved on sounds eats it up. I wish there was an echo. At least then I could hear something else than my own voice as it leaves me only to leave no track of having existed.

There is no sobs leaving me now. No tears running down my cheeks. I guess Father would be proud, but really I just don't care. I only walk and walk in this endless sameness.

* * *

I fall down in the mud. My legs just won't carry me any longer. I try to crawl forward as stopping feels like giving up. Stopping feels like dying. As long as I move forward I can tell myself that I am doing something. As long as I move I am alive in this nothingness. As long as I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, I won't feel the gnawing hunger or the desperate dryness in my throat.

* * *

A distant part of me thinks it's a good thing no one is here to see me as I lick the muddy ground, desperate to get some moisture on my tongue. The hunger is gone now, the only thing I know is thirst. I bury my face in the mud trying to suck up some water from the mud but end up choking on it instead. Gasping for air I roll over. I want to keep moving, but my limbs won't collaborate anymore. I lay there on my back, wanting for it all to just be over.

They call me a coward. They don't know the story behind my choices. I did what I did for survival. As they fought their battles, I fought mine.

With my dying strength, I still fight for my survival. Slytherins might be many things, but we aren't quitters. We scheme and plan and manipulate to get our way. We don't go into fights blindly, we go with a plan. We go in for the win. Giving up is not an option.

I try to draw a deeper breath, just to get the strength to turn around and make it forward. Who knows, maybe just a few steps from here there will be something. Some change in this endless hell that will take me away from here. My throat is too dry though and I end up coughing instead. I try to lift a hand to cover my mouth - Mother was always on me about remembering my manners, I guess not even hell can take away her teachings from me. My strength fails me though and my arm flops useless back to the ground.

As I close my eyes I'm dimly aware of contemplating the lack of change in darkness that action has. Eyes open or closed, there is nothing I can see.

* * *

I was sure I was dead. I was sure I had struggled till the bitter end of it all. Then I became aware again. There is water touching my lips, my face, my hands. Drops and drops of water. I open my eyes, but to my dismay there is still only darkness. The rain falls all around me though and I open my mouth to the sky, feeling it run down my throat. I drink and drink and laugh from the share joy of not being thirsty anymore.

When the thirst has left me, I drink the rain to fill my stomach. For a moment, I feel strengthened. Then, reality sets in. I sit on the ground in the downpour. I sharpen my ears, listening. I can hear the rain as it softly hits the ground, but nothing else. There is no wind, nor does the sound of the rain carry an echo with it. Like it was with my voice, it is like this place is eating up the sound of the drops hitting the ground.

Neither can I see the rain. I see no reflections in the drops of water around me. Feeling around me on the ground, I feel only the same mud as before. There is no puddles forming, nor is the mud getting detectably wetter than before. With my hands I dig a small hole in the ground, to make a puddle. When I reach down a moment later to check if it fills up, the hole is gone. There is only a flat surface of mud to be found.

Soon, the rain stops. Everything is now as it was before, only now I'm no longer thirsty. I struggle to get up on my feet. With no way of knowing what direction I came from, I start walking. I figure it doesn't matter if I walk back to where I came from, or if I walk in circles. Nothing seems to matter. It's not like I'm getting anywhere.

There really is no use in walking at all, but I just cannot give up.

* * *

The hunger returns first, then the thirst. I feel my strength slowly abandoning me, just like the last time. Just like the last time, I push forward for as long as I can. This time the rain starts the moment I fall down. I drink greedily, afterward wondering if there is any nutrition in this rain as well, as it seems to take away my hunger as well as my thirst.

* * *

The fifth time it starts to rain, I curse myself as I helplessly follows my instinct to drink. I cannot take this any longer, still I can't resist drinking. I can't stop my fight for survival.

I wish I had something tangible to fight. Instead the only thing I can do is push forward.

One foot in front of the other.

* * *

The only thing I know is that there is some plan and reason to this place. That's the only explanation to why it always starts to rain the moment that I get to the brink of dying from thirst. I just don't know what to do with this knowledge.

I can hardly remember anything else than this blackness. I try to think about my home, my friends and my family. They all seem so long gone to me now. The face of Mother remains clear the longest.

* * *

I've lost count of the times it's rained when I realize I haven't yet slept here in this place. Unless you count that time before the first rain, when I closed my eyes. I'm sure I have been here for weeks by now, but still I cannot remember sleeping. It must be weeks, I think, although time seems irrelevant here. Still, the body can survive for days without food or water, and it always takes me to the brink of death before the rain comes and restores me. So it must be weeks by now.

I lay down in the mud, determined to sleep. I close my eyes, but sleep isn't even near. I feel beyond exhausted, but not sleepy. Stubbornly, I remain where I am. I will sleep.

* * *

When the thirst returns this time, I'm still laying in the mud. I haven't slept though. As the thirst grows, I find I cannot remain still. I'm forced to get up and move, or the thirst become even more of a torture.

* * *

I don't sleep here. Apparently there is something about this place that takes away my need for sleep. That is the second thing I learn about my own, personal hell.

I don't know what to do with that knowledge either.

* * *

I haven't talked to anyone for ages. At this point, I'm not sure if I'd even be able to produce words, given the opportunity. I tried, a while ago, to speak up into the darkness. The harsh sounds my throat made seemed too loud in my ears. There was no words in that sound though. I can here the words in my head, but I've been quiet for so long now that I appear to have lost the ability to produce them.

* * *

What is light? I try to remember. I feel my face with my fingers, trying to picture what I must look like, if there were light and I had a mirror to see myself in. I just cannot imagine the sight I must be.

* * *

Who am I?

One foot in front of the other.

There is mud on the ground.

All is quiet.

* * *

I breath. I am.

What am I?

* * *

Rain. Wet.

* * *

One foot. Other foot.

Mud. Ground.

Wet.

* * *

Quiet. Dark. Wet.

* * *

Am I?

* * *

Up. Foot. Down. Rain.

Up. Foot. Other Foot. Mud. Drink.

Up. Foot. Foot. Rain.

Up. Down. Rain.

* * *

 _Four months, twelve days and thirteen hours. That was how long Harry had been sitting by Draco's side now, holding his hand. People had come and gone, they had tried to get him to leave for a short while at least. They hadn't succeeded. Harry slept sitting in his chair, never letting go of his lover's hand._

 _He tried not to think what Draco might be going through, trapped inside his own mind in a nightmarish reality conjured by the twisted mind of Jara Nordland. The witch had turned out to be one of those twisted "fans" of his, that thought she had helped him, making Draco first forget all about Harry's even existing, and then trapping him like this. When caught, she had gone on and on about how she had saved Harry from being bound to a Death Eater._

 _Harry had thought everyone had gotten over the chock of their "savior" falling in love with and then marrying Draco Malfoy, a confirmed (ex) Death Eater, but apparently he had been wrong. Jara had been sent to Azkaban but to no avail - she wouldn't or couldn't undo her curse. One month into Draco's entrapment in his own mind, she had killed herself, ending all hope for any assistance from her._

 _Hermione was of course doing her best, as was many others. As time moved on, there came other emergencies that needed to be dealt with and he started to get excuses as people was taken of Draco's case and put to work on other things that was deemed to have more hope in succeeding. Soon, Hermione would be the only one left. Harry knew he could count on her, she wouldn't give up. An unsolvable problem was to her like catnip to a cat._

 _Still, even if - when - she one day would be able to break the curse, there was no telling what Harry would be getting back. What sort of nightmare Jara had trapped Draco in. His body might be cursed to regenerate, but what of his mind? Harry already knew he had been made to forget all about them, but that he could handle. He could remind Draco of who he was and what they had together. He was not so sure though, if Draco would have a mind to heal, even if they got him back._

 _Still, Harry couldn't leave. If he'd known Draco was only unaware, sleeping or unconscious, he might have been able to leave every now and then. As it was, he knew that that was not the case. He might not know the nature of the nightmare, but he knew it to be the worst kind of hell. The least he could do was be there, hold his hand. Even if Draco didn't know it. He'd suffer, as the love of his life suffered._

 _Together, alone. Each in their own, living nightmare._


	7. Harry and Abigail

Rated T. Fluff/humor/crack/romance. The prompt used was "An unlikely pet"

* * *

"Harry!" there was a tone of disbelief in Ron's voice.

"Yeah?" Harry turned around to face his friend. He saw 'Mione standing beside him, uncharacteristically silent and mouth agape.

"Harry," Ron repeated, before falling silent.

"Yes?" Harry repeated with emphasis on each letter of the word. Ron and 'Mione only stared at him, or rather behind him. Harry decided that this was the perfect time to practice his skills in patience, so he just stood there calmly, waiting for his friends to stop gaping and continue with whatever it was that was bothering them.

"Uhm," Ron finally started. At the same time, 'Mione finally managed to close her mouth, a worried look replacing her disbelief.

"Harry, are you aware that you have, well, what appears to be _a giraffe_ accompanying you?" she asked, Ron slowly shaking his head beside her as if he wanted to wake himself up from a dream.

"Yes," Harry now repeated the affirmation for the third time, not really getting the question - it wasn't like giraffes were that small creatures, and this one was no exception, so how could they possibly believe that he would _not_ know about it? "Her name's Abigail," he offered as he came up with nothing else to continue with and his friends were staring silently again.

"Abi…" 'Mione cut herself off in the middle of Abigail's name. "Harry, are you feeling okay?" she then asked instead.

"Sure, I'm okay," Harry smiled at them, silently wondering if 'Mione and Ron were okay. Maybe he should suggest they go to visit Madam Pomfrey? "I really should continue up though, it'll take time to get Abby here settled, and I'm sure she's hungry as well. We wouldn't want her to keep us all up all night if she starts nibbling on our bedsheets," he added with a smile.

"Up? Mate? Are you taking the giraffe up to the tower?" Ron was almost shouting in disbelief. Odd.

"Her name's Abigail, and where else should I take her? It's the middle of winter, surely you can't expect me to have her stay outside?"

"Harry, maybe you should come with us to visit Madam Pomfrey? Or Head Mistress McGonagall?" 'Mione sounded worried.

"Why? I feel fine. You two should go though, you both look a little faint. Maybe you've eaten something bad?" Harry suggested. "I really need to go now though. I hope you two feel better soon!" with those words, he started of toward the tower, Abigail in tow. He absentmindedly noted that Ron and 'Mione remained where they were, just standing there staring after him and Abby.

* * *

He was almost finished with his breakfast when the Head Mistress interrupted him.

"Mr Potter, a word, if you please," McGonagall's tone of voice suggested that he'd better please, no other option allowed. Sighing, Harry got up and trailed after her out of the Great Hall, Abigail in tow.

They walked quietly to McGonagall's office. When they reached the stairs, she paused for a moment to look pointedly at Abigail, but when Harry made no move to order Abby to wait, she sighed and opened the door, leading them all upstairs.

The office got a little crowded with Abigail there. Dumbledore's portrait was delighted though. With sparkling eyes he kept trying to get Abby to walk over to him, wanting to give her some painted treats. Harry left him to it, as he focused on the current Head Mistress. She was looking at her predecessor and Abigail with clear disapproval, but then she as well turned around to focus on Harry instead.

"Mr Potter," she started, in her usual stern voice. "Would you please explain the giraffe?" There was a slight pause before the last word.

"I call her Abigail, I got her yesterday."

"Yes, so I've been informed. The question remains though as to _why_ you acquired her."

"All students are allowed a pet, and the restrictions as to what sort of pets was not placed on us eight years."

"I am well aware of that, Mr Potter. That allowance was given as you are seen as old enough to take proper care and responsibility over animals more difficult to handle than cats, owls and toads. You cannot suggest that the giraffe is your pet though?"

"Why not?"

"Mr Potter. Giraffes are not suitable as pets."

"Why not?"

"Mr Potter. Harry. Please, tell me why you've gotten a giraffe as a pet?" McGonagall walked over to him as she spoke to put a hand on his shoulder, concern evident in her eyes. Harry sighed, not wanting her to worry, but not knowing what to tell her either.

"I just wanted to," he finally replied. "And the rules allow it," he added as he thought it good to repeat it.

"You wanted to?" McGonagall echoed, suddenly sounding old and tired. "Harry, if there was something troubling you, you know you can talk to be about it, right?"

"I know," Harry answered with honesty. "I'm fine. Abigail is fine. Everything is just fine," he tried smiling at her, but that seemed to just make her frown more, increasing the lines of worry on her face. Finally she shook her head in defeat, letting Harry and Abigail out with an accompanying encouragement to go see Madam Pomfrey 'just in case'.

* * *

"Potter!" Parkinson's mocking voice sounded across the hall as Harry walked by. Harry calmly stopped and turned to face her. It was a week since he'd gotten Abigail, and he was getting used to people commenting on it. He quirked an eyebrow in question at the group of Slytherins. "They say that our _oh so beloved Savior_ has lost his mind, any comments?" Parkinson continued, laughing in scorn as she spoke. Everyone except Malfoy joined her in her laughter.

Malfoy was standing at the side of the group, uncharacteristically quiet. He regarded Harry with a light frown but no comment. Harry just shrugged slightly and resumed walking - he had figured out that that was the best response he could give regarding all the questions people had about Abby.

* * *

The latest issue of the Prophet was suddenly pushed in front of Harry, as he ate his breakfast a couple of days later. On the front cover there was a picture of him and Abby, while the headline, written in bold, flashy letters, read: " _Even the Mighty can fall_ " and printed underneath in finer script was the question " _Did Harry Potter, Savior of the Whole Wizarding World, pay for his victory over You-Know-Who with his sanity? Read all about the tragic tale that might have lead to the fall of our Most Beloved Hero on pages 2, 3 and then continued on pages 7 to 12_." Harry chuckled lightly before pushing the paper away. He had no interest in reading Skeeter's newest concoctions of half-truths and full on lies mixed with not even remotely qualified guesses.

* * *

"Is she magical?" Ron's voice startled Harry out of his thoughts. He looked up at his mate, wondering what he was talking about. "The giraffe, I mean," the red-head clarified with a nod toward Abby.

"Magical? There is such a thing as magical giraffes?" he sure hadn't heard about it, but then again there probably was a lot he still had to learn about the Wizarding World and all the mysteries it held.

"Not that I know off," Ron replied, disappointment in his voice. "I just hoped you'd found something new, and that that would be the explanation of… _that_." Once again, he indicated Abby with just a nod, seeming not to actually wanting to acknowledge her. Harry looked at his mate with a furrowed brow.

"What do you have against Abby?" he asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"What do I..? Harry. I love you as a brother, yeah? Mates for life and all that, yeah? But this, this… _Abby_. I just don't get it. If you just could explain to me _why_?" Ron pleaded with him, desperation in his voice.

"I've told you. I just wanted to," Harry repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Yeah, mate, you've said that. But why did you want to? It just doesn't make any sense, you do realize that?" Ron sat down next to Harry, concern written all over his face. "Is there something about her you're just not telling me? Did you maybe botch up a transfiguration experiment? Or is she charmed? You can tell me, I'm your mate, yeah? I'm no blabber-mouth, I'll keep quiet. Just tell me so that I can understand!"

"You're my best mate Ron. I just don't know what to tell you. Abby isn't any spell or charm gone wrong."

"Then why? And how? _How_ did you get her? You can't just walk into a pet store and buy a giraffe!"

"Well, I was out visiting in London, as you know, yeah? And then I run into this group of Muggles who were all about how wrong it is to keep animals in zoos, yeah? I listened to them for a while and well, they sort of made sense. So I figured I'd do my part and liberate at least one of the animals kept there, yeah?"

"You… you _stole_ the giraffe from a Muggle zoo?" Ron's eyes was all about bulging out of his head.

"Liberated, man, liberated!"

"Liberated. Right. Yeah. Harry, have you seen Madam Pomfrey lately?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"You just stole a giraffe! And you keep it in our dorm! You take it with you everywhere!" Ron was almost shouting now and Harry sighed.

" _Liberated_ ," he repeated, trying to put as much emphasis at the word as possible.

"Fine. _Liberated_ ," Ron almost growled. "You do realize that if you really wanted to liberate the giraffe, you should have sent her to Africa, to be with other giraffes, yeah?"

"She's been bred in captivity. She's never seen the savanna. She'd be lost there. At least she's not in a cage now. She's free, but taken care of as she's used to," Harry knew he sounded petulant, but couldn't help himself.

Beside him, Ron buried his head in his hands, giving up.

* * *

"Potter, are you out of your mind?" Malfoy almost jumped up at him, as Harry was making his way to the Great Hall after their shared Potion's class. Without waiting for an answer, he dragged Harry by the arm to a nearby, empty classroom. Abigail followed in tow, not needing to be told. No one else was around, as Harry had been held back in class by an agitated Snape who had demanded Harry leave Abby out of his classroom in the future.

After having closed and locked the door behind them, the two turned to face each other. Abby quietly munched on a small pile of leaves that Harry automatically had pulled out from his bag and put up on the teacher's table for her.

"You're out of your mind," Malfoy repeated.

"That seems to be the general consensus, yeah," Harry agreed, nodding calmly while holding Malfoy's gaze.

"Why?" the blond asked in a tired voice.

"You know why," Harry's reply came without hesitation, and as he spoke he took a step closer to the other boy, who turned around and walked toward the window.

"It's madness," he stated in a quiet voice.

"Maybe," Harry agreed.

"Have you seen what the Prophet prints about you? What the students and even the teachers are saying?" pain filled Malfoy's voice.

"I don't care."

"Well, I do!" Malfoy turned around, fury in his eyes. "You're the Savior! They shouldn't talk like that about you. You saved them all and this is the thanks you get?"

"Yeah, I've pretty much lost my good reputation, wouldn't you say?" Harry was grinning at Malfoy, who's eyes lost their fury as he stilled and this time let Harry walk up to him. "You know," Harry continued, "now that I've lost my mind and all, me dating an ex-Death Eater wouldn't do much of a dent in my reputation. You know, the reputation you cared so much about protecting."

"You can't blame me for this!" the fury in Malfoy's eyes flared back. "You know what they'll say if this," he gestured between himself and Harry, "comes out. The things they'll write."

"Can't write anything much worse than they do now, can they?" Harry continued to grin, even if it felt forced. He just wanted the anguish removed from Draco's eyes, from his whole being. He took one more step closer, raising his hand to put on the other boy's arm. Draco stilled as he met Harry's gaze.

"You're absolutely bonkers, you know that," he whispered.

"Love will do that to a person," Harry smiled. "You cared so much about protecting my reputation, well, now it's gone. No need to protect it anymore. No need to hide anymore," Harry looked Draco in the eyes as he spoke, urgently hoping that his own eyes spoke more than he was able to put in words. "The whole wizarding world now believe I've lost it. My friends believe it too. At times, even I believe it," Harry chuckled darkly. "I know it's worth it though. I'll do anything to convince you that you're worth so much more than any reputation. I don't care what they say. I don't care what anyone writes. What we've shared this year, I don't want to keep it a secret any longer. _That_ is what I care about. _You_ is what I care about, Draco. When we leave Hogwarts for good in one week, I want you to move in with us at Grimmauld Place. I want to be able to kiss you in public and hold your hand. I want you, all of you. I didn't save the whole bloody Wizarding World to then have to hide what I really want and care about. If they can't take it that their Savior is dating an Ex-Death Eater, then that's too bad, I don't care. They can go stuff their narrow-minded opinions up their bloody arse's," Harry was getting worked up now, angry at all those who'd want to 'save him' from Draco, just because they couldn't see past his past.

Draco looked at him, a stunned expression on his face. "You want me to move in with you?" he asked with disbelief, as if he hadn't heard anything Harry had said after that. "What about..?"

Harry didn't let him finish. "What about nothing," he corrected. "I've lived my whole life this far with everyone telling me what to do. With the expectation that I'll save everyone. Well, I've done that now, yeah? So now it's my turn to decide what I want. And I only want _you_ ," he paused to let that sink in, before repeating his words from before, as a question now. "So please tell me that you will move in with us?" he kept his breath as he waited for Draco to reply.

The blond looked at him for quite a long time, shaking his head as if he wanted to make sure this was really happening, before a tentative smile formed on his face and he nodded. Closing the last of the distance between them, Harry brought their lips together in a soft kiss. As they broke apart, a small frown formed on Draco's face.

"Wait a minute, did you just ask if I'll move in with you as in someone more in addition to you and me? You're not telling me that Granger and Weasel will be living with us?" a look of pure horror came over him as he spoke the words. Harry chuckled lightly.

"No, Ron and 'Mione have plans of their own. I meant with me and Abby, of course."

"With you and… Abby? _The giraffe_? You're not suggesting that you're keeping the giraffe?!"

"Why wouldn't I? She's who I have to thank for you finally seeing reason and agreeing to this all," Harry grinned again. "Don't worry Draco, you'll learn to love her as well, I'm sure."

Draco groaned as he buried his face in the crane of Harry's neck. He was so going to regret this. Bloody Savior, he really was absolutely bonkers.


	8. What about some stress release?

Raiting M, ADULT CONTENT WARNING!

A one shot continuation of the one shot that is chapter two of this collection of one shots. Can probably be read without reading chapter two as this really is just me trying to figure out how to write sex scenes and the plot is largely missing.

* * *

"I don't like others looking at that what is mine," Malfoy's words kept repeating on a loop in Harry's mind. It had been three days since they had been stuck in that elevator together, and Harry was reasonably sure he was going out of his mind. There was no way that had actually happened. Still, whenever he closed his eyes, all he would see was Malfoy on his knees in front of him, taking his cock into his mouth and sucking as his fingers played with his hole.

Harry groaned loudly. He was already rock hard and throbbing. That seemed to be a constant state for him these last days. Bloody git! He cursed under his breath. He had to be at a important meeting with at the ministry in just about ten minutes and had no time to take care of his "problem" before that. Leave it to Malfoy to interfere with his life even when the bugger wasn't even around. Drawing a couple of deep breaths Harry tried to conjure up an image of Professor Slughorn dressed in a tutu and performing the swan dance.

Five minutes later he was leaving his office at a half run. His face faintly flushed but otherwise reasonably representable. That is until he stepped into the meeting room and lay eyes on Draco Malfoy standing at a window looking as cool and together as always. As the blond turned around he hardly even seemed to recognize Harry.

The meeting was a nightmare. Malfoy was a pain, as always, and kept getting on Harry's nerves with his outrageous proposals. At the same time his mind kept bringing up images of an entirely different Malfoy with a magic tongue and incredible fingers.

Angry, turned on and confused he rushed out as soon as the meeting was over. He had never before made his way back to his office as fast as now. As the door closed behind him, he took a hold of his table and hang his head, breathing heavily. He just had to pull himself together! He just had to get Malfoy out of his head.

"That position suit you," a calm voice suddenly sound from behind him. Harry twirled around and found himself looking into the steel gray eyes of no one other than Draco Malfoy. Smirking at Harry the blond closed the door behind him.

"Don't you ever knock?" Harry managed to get out.

"Usually. Not always though," Malfoy answered coolly while looking Harry up and down slowly. "You made me worried at the meeting, you know. You seemed stressed. Have something happened?"

"What?" Harry just couldn't get a coherent thought put together.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy took a step closer. "Is there something I can do?"

"Are you kidding me?" Harry finally found his voice. "After the other day? You actually ask something like that?"

"Didn't you like it? The other day?" Malfoy asked with a small frown.

"I - I - I… That's not it!"

"What's it then?"

Harry could but stare at the blond as he closed the last of the distance between them. Surprisingly gently he took a hold of Harry's head. "Do you want more then?" he asked with a hushed voice.

"M-m-more?" distractedly Harry wondered when he had started to stammer.

Malfoy trailed his fingers along Harry's sides. "The word is that you've been single for some time now. As have I," he played with the lining of Harry's trousers as he spoke. "Why not get together for some stress release?"

That seemed to be an offer that Harry's cock just wouldn't let him refuse, as Harry just felt himself nod in response. At that, he felt Malfoy daftly opening the zipper in his trousers and slip his hand inside. At the same time as he took a hold of Harry's member he softly pushed Harry down to sit on his desk.

"What if someone comes in?" Harry just thought to ask.

"Shh, don't worry about that," Malfoy answered confidently and as he suddenly found himself bare arsed and pushed down on his back with his legs spread to the sides all thoughts about anything but Malfoy left his head. As in a haze his eyes followed Malfoy as he once again knelt down in front of Harry. This time he had a firm grip of Harry's cock with one hand and used the other to spread his buttocks. Before Harry had the time to wonder what he was about to do he felt something incredible wet flicker tentatively at the rim of his hole. Yelping in surprise he stared at the top of Malfoy's head in shock. Had he really just… Before he was able to finish that thought, Malfoy's tongue was at his hole again. As it entered Harry's body, all coherent thought left his head and he just moaned.

It was like nothing he had ever even imagined. The firm and wet tongue was surprisingly long and Malfoy didn't seem to have any qualms about pushing it as deep into Harry as he possible could. His hand kept at its steady rhythm pumping Harry's cock.

"Please," Harry could not help but beg. "Please, I need…" he didn't know what he needed, he just knew he needed it more than anything. "Draco, just, please, Draco I need you!" Harry knew he was begging and he knew he was begging Malfoy but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to even begin to care about any possible consequences. He needed Malfoy, that was all he knew.

With agonizing slowness, Malfoy got up from his position on his knees. As his tongue left Harry's arse, Harry sobbed from the loss, but Malfoy's hand was still pumping his cock. "Shh," the blond whispered soothingly. "Are you sure about this?" he then asked. Harry nodded fervently. He was more sure about it than he had ever been. As Malfoy bent down over him and gently let their lips finally meet in a kiss full of need and want, Harry took a hold of him as if he never wanted to let go. He soon had to though, as Malfoy had to stand back up to position himself. Looking at Harry, he stroke his cock with one hand as the now somehow lube covered left hand made sure Harry's hole was relaxed enough. Then he lined up his cock and Harry could feel the head press against his slippery wet hole.

Meeting Malfoy's eyes he spread his legs as far to the sides as he could, trying to signal without the use of words that he really, really wanted this. That he needed it. With a small gasp Malfoy enter Harry. When the head of his cock was inside, he paused, giving Harry time to adjust. There was a burn, but it didn't last long. Whimpering he signaled to Malfoy to keep pushing in, and the blond complied. Carefully he pushed deeper into Harry until he was fully inside.

At first, Malfoy's thrusts were slow and measured, but soon, to Harry's delight, he lost some of his control, increasing his pace and a rosy flush soon spreads over his pale features. As Harry nears his climax, Malfoy's breathing becomes increasingly unsteady as well and when Harry looses it he is dimly aware of Malfoy letting out a small whimper that sounds suspiciously like Harry's name just as he joins him.

When Harry comes to again, Malfoy is still slumped down on top of him. Malfoy's cock has now slipped out from Harry's arse and he can feel his sticky cum running out as well. His own cum is cooling and sticky between them. To his surprise Harry finds that he doesn't really mind though. With the blond git's head resting on his shoulder he feels he could stay like this for hours - no matter the hard desk or the cold or the stickiness. He closes his eyes, determined to take every enjoyment he can out of the situation.

A brush of lips against his own makes him open his eyes again. As he looks into Malfoy's steel gray eyes, he is astonished to find how warm they can be. He had always pegged him as a cold bastard without any capability of emotions. A soft smile plays at the corner's of Malfoy's mouth. Their lips meet once more in a soft kiss before Malfoy gets up. Slowly, Harry sits up as well. Absentmindedly he levitates his trousers up from the floor so that he can pull them back on. Meanwhile, Malfoy straightens his clothes and soon looks as untouchable as ever.

Just as Harry thinks that the git is actually about to leave without one more word, he pauses at the door and turn slightly back around to look at Harry. "I think I could get used to this. Us," he says with a small quirk of his lips and a sparkle in his eyes that makes promises Harry doesn't even dare to hope for.


End file.
